If you have ever had contact with me around Memorial or Labor Day, then you have probably heard me mention "the best rest stop in the mountains." We happened upon it by chance several years ago as we were driving to Virginia, and now it is our required stop of every trip we take east on I-68. It is high on a hill in the mountains with a few scattered picnic tables and places to wander into the forest.
I'm sure that most of the magic we find there has to do with the fact that when we arrive, our whining, grumpy children suddenly become happy and playful. The stress of long hours in the car melts away in the shade of the tall trees. We eat and stretch. The kids run and chase after a ball or blow bubbles that quickly fly away in the mountain breeze. After our picnic, Darren takes the kids "up the mountain" while I clean up.
We walk a short ways up a small trail. The sun dapples the ferns that grow happily on the forest floor. We look for animals or fairies, and once we even found a napping snake curled up in the sun. For an hour or so a few times a year, this place is our refuge. We can bathe in the sun or enjoy the cool shade, sit or run, play or rest, imagine the future as we watch our children race up the hill or hold onto just that moment when we all seem to make one contented sigh together.
No comments:
Post a Comment